From the mouths of babes

June 9, 2010

Last week, I was looking out the window at our impressively weed-filled front yard. I commented to F how nice it would be if all those weeds would just disappear on their own without us having to personally hike up the hill for an afternoon of yardwork-induced back strain and broken, mulchy fingernails.

So imagine my surprise the very next day when a couple of fairly sketchy-looking young men rang the doorbell and asked if we had any yardwork or other kind of work we could offer them.

I reasoned that maybe this was the universe rewarding me for all the Starbucks-condiment-area-wiping and litter-collecting I try to regularly do as part of my general operating philosophy to leave things better than I found them. I engaged the Sketchy Duo’s services, and after a strange and slow start, they got to work.

While they worked, I saw our next-door neighbor’s two boys come outside to play. The youngest, around four years old, marches up to Sketchy Duo and announces: “Hi! My name is Kayden! What’s your name?”

One of the Sketchy Duo answered something unintelligible, and suddenly Kayden’s older brother (approx age seven) came tearing around the corner of the house towards his little brother (whom he is typically trying to kill or injure with surprisingly well-thought-out malevolent plans) screaming at the top of his lungs: “They’re NOT YOUR FRIENDS, Kayden!! They’re NOT YOUR FRIENDS!!

Indeed. What a crack-up!

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